Collected OC Ficlets
by moonswirl
Summary: Pretty selfexplanatory. There will be seven in whole. Featured charactersships: Theresa, RL 2, Seth, Taylor, Trey, SummerAnna.
1. What are you running for?

**(So as a holiday thing, I've been writing ficlets for friends based on song lyrics... I'm soo not done unfortunately, but anyway, I wanted to share, so here are the OC ones...)**

"**What are you running for?"**

An "O.C." Ficlet – for Rai

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Info: PG, Theresa POV.

_By Moonie_

Our son is one year old today, and I wish he could see him.

He's so active and his laugh is enough to put a smile on my face for hours. He looks at me with those eyes and I see Ryan in him so much it just tears my heart out. He can play 'peek-a-boo' for hours on end and he hates taking baths.

When I last saw Ryan, it took everything I had in me not to tell him about our little boy. And why did I have to do that? I knew he deserved to have his life, to go on without settling for less. But he should be able to know his son. He should know how he never sleeps without hearing the theme to Spongebob. He should be there to see him grow up just as I do.

Every day I keep telling myself that and I can't count anymore how often I've just hopped into the car with our son strapped in his car seat and started for Newport. But then I never get there. I can never make it more than a few minutes past the Chino city limits.

Our son is six years old today, and I wish he could see him.

In the last few years, I've seen him grow into this little person, our boy… and I couldn't have made it without him. All my doubts and fears meant nothing when I saw him. He'd give me a big hug and everything would be right again. He's so smart, it just amazes me sometimes.

His favorite thing is soccer. He's playing, he watches the games on television like it's the most gorgeous thing in the world.

He's asked about his father, and I never know what to say, so I turn around and distract him. I'm not looking forward to the day where it stops working. I wonder what Ryan is doing sometimes, if he's even still in Newport.

I still go on the occasional "random field trip" with my soccer fan. We make it to the Newport city limits now. When I chicken out, we stop at a roadside diner for lunch. Only seeing him happy keeps me from smacking my head repeatedly on a table.

Our son is eleven years old today, and I wish he could see him.

He's doing so good. Keeping him 'on the path', away from a life of trouble, we left Chino three years ago. It was hard to leave home, but at the same time it felt worth it.

And it was after settling in Phoenix that I met Andy. He's been so good to us, even sharing in the ever-present soccer "experience". Andy and I got married three months ago. I couldn't have hoped for a greater, more understanding man.

He was aware of Ryan and the history we shared. He believed I should go to him to tell him about his son, but he never pushed on the matter. He knew the fear in the pit of my stomach. Every birthday that passed, my guilt rose. It was another year Ryan didn't get to know this great boy, and it was another year he would no doubt resent me for.

He had been ready to give up his new life for us even if it wasn't what he wanted, and I'd lied to him. It had to be for his best, for all of us, but still it didn't make it easier.

Our boy is eighteen today, and I wish he could see him.

He started college a few months ago, it's still so amazing to see him, invested on it all. With his soccer, he'd gotten a scholarship, all these doors opened to him. He had all these things I'd wished for him, for us, and other things I couldn't have imagined even if I tried. He takes care of his little sisters, and he loves his girlfriend so much.

This morning he told me he would propose to her the day they finished college. He was confident in the fact that they would still be happy, together, and knowing him I knew he would probably be right.

He's known for a few years about his father. I finally accepted to be honest with him when he was fifteen. It took some time to grasp it all, but as time went by he understood. And this morning as we sat together, he made a request.

He told me that he knew I was scared, he knew he was asking a lot, but he really wanted his father to be part of his life someday. He wanted him to be there at his wedding. Andy was as much his father as anyone, but this was just something he needed.

So now I had four years. Four years to gather my courage, work through my fears. Four years to give him what now eighteen years and countless trips hadn't managed to produce. If I was ever going to hold a promise though, this would be it… somehow.

the end :)

next up: Ryan/Lindsay ficlet.


	2. I'm all right, I'm all right

"**I'm all right, I'm all right, it only hurts when I breathe"**

An "O.C." Ficlet – for Devon

Disclaimer: Not mine

Info: PG, R/L, Future fic...

_By Moonie_

"Coffee please?" Ryan Atwood sat at the diner's counter, placing his briefcase at his feet. He hadn't been in Seattle for years, yet it all looked the same. This latest project the company had undertaken was big and they'd sent him to get a look at some suppliers. He still hated leaving the kids, even years after losing…

"Here you go," the waitress put the cup before him.

"Thank you," he reached for the milk.

"And your bill, ma'am," he could hear her continue.

"Thank you," the woman replied.

Ryan froze. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard it in years, but there was no mistaking it. He looked slowly to the side, finding the speaker at the end of the counter, red hair finely swept into an up do. He wasn't sure whether he should approach her or not. For all he knew, she had no interest in ever speaking to him again. It wasn't so much that they'd left things badly, but the memories she must have surrounding him…

"Ryan Atwood…" he was pulled back to reality and he looked up at her.

"Lindsay," he stood with a smile inspired by the fact that she was smiling as well.

"My goodness, fancy meeting you here. How long's it been? Twenty-five years?'

"Just about," Ryan nodded. "You look good," he continued to smile.

"So do you," she nodded.

"Would you like to…" he indicated a free table nearby.

"Uh, sure," she nodded and they went.

"Do you live here?" he asked.

"No, just business. I live in Portland. Are you still in Newport?"

"Yeah, I am," he nodded. "Married?"

"Divorced. You?"

"Widowed…"

"Oh I'm sorry, I…"

"It's okay, you didn't…"

"Marissa?" He nodded. "What…"

"Accident, eight years ago." Lindsay seemed lost for words. "It was hard, but we all got through it," Ryan went on. Lindsay looked up.

"How long were you married?" she asked.

"Going on fourteen years. We have two sons. Elliott is twenty now, off in med school. Tom's twelve; he wants to be a hockey player these days, I don't know where he got that," he smiled and Lindsay laughed. Ryan became quiet for a moment. "And we have a daughter, Skye… Seventeen, and she looks just like her mother…" After a moment, he snapped out of his daze, offering another smile. "They're great, I wish you could meet them."

"Well we never know," she nodded. "And you could meet my daughter. Her name's Sarah, she's also seventeen. She's bordering on over-shy." The two shared a grin.

"We should set up a dinner, come visit us," Ryan suggested. "I'm sure Kirsten would love to see you two."

"Maybe…" Lindsay nodded shortly, though not looking right at him.

"Is something wrong?" Ryan asked, concerned.

"N-no, it's nothing," she insisted.

"It's not nothing, I can tell." She continued pulling a silent moment, and eventually Ryan began to understand. "Is it going back to Newport?" She looked up at him, unable to hide a small smile.

"Somehow I knew you'd figure me out."

"It's been twenty-five years, things have changed."

"But some things never can… I… I wasn't there when Caleb died. I wasn't there for any of it, I found out all the information through the news. He and I may not have had the best of relationships, but he was still my father. And yet… I couldn't help feeling like… now my life could get back to normal somehow. No one needed to know who I was the daughter of, they wouldn't see me any differently. And then I just wanted to hate myself for thinking this when at the same time so many people were left reeling. Newport just became this place I knew I couldn't enter without feeling like all this guilt would return to hit me… and Kirsten… I'd be so scared she'd find out."

"Lindsay," he took her hands. She gasped lightly back to reality, looking up at Ryan, allowing the comfort she found in his eyes to wash over her. "No one will resent you for it, it was a long time ago and it wasn't easy for anyone, including you. They'll understand."

"Maybe… but I still can't do it for now…"

"That's fine, I could get my trio together, come up for a visit…"

"I'd like that," she smiled.

"So how long are you in town for?"

"Why?"

"I was thinking I would love some company for dinner tonight, and I know we probably have a lot of catching up to do…"

"I'll be there," she nodded.

"Great," Ryan nodded back.

He came to pick her up that night at six. They had a simple dinner, which lasted relatively long, the conversation taking on a life of its own. When they were told the restaurant was closing, they continued talking as they slowly walked back to Lindsay's hotel.

"Well, I guess this is good night," she nodded as he got her to her door.

"Yeah. Hardly saw the time go by."

"Same here."

"How about breakfast tomorrow morning?" he smiled.

"Sure," she grinned. "Okay. I'm gonna do something, I just…" she bridged the gap and kissed him briefly. "See you tomorrow."

"Y-yeah," he blinked. Both smiled and Lindsay went into her room.

That night, both of them found themselves with a slight case of insomnia. Thoughts bouncing around in their heads. Ryan kept thinking how even though he knew that years later no one would hold it against him to try and move on, part of him would still feel unfaithful by doing anything. Nothing would change his feelings for his late wife.

At the same time, he still held some feelings for Lindsay somewhere in him. To this day he'd continued to wonder about what could have been. So it wasn't like he'd just sprouted feelings for a complete stranger. This was someone he'd cared about for a long time, still did.

And maybe that was the part that felt like a betrayal; this was where Marissa's face appeared in his mind. This was where he recalled her telling him she was pregnant with Elliott the day of Seth and Summer's wedding. This was where he could see her worried traits when Skye had ended up in the hospital with a strong fever, where he saw her crying joyfully holding baby Tommy. This was where he saw the pain pull away from her face as her life ended.

He'd never forgotten about Lindsay, and seeing her now gave him the same feeling of a jolt, a rush. Try as he might, the feeling refused to release its hold on him. This kept him tossing and turning until he looked at the clock and he sighed with exasperation when he saw it was almost three in the morning and he still couldn't fall asleep.

Grabbing his jacket, he got down to the hotel lobby, heading for the exit – he needed air. And that was when he saw her, sitting in a nightgown and her suit jacket, long red hair veiled over the side of her face.

"Lindsay…" Her head snapped back and she stood with a start.

"Ryan, hey…"

"What are you…"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I," he admitted.

"I'm sorry about before, I shouldn't have…" she spoke hurriedly.

"You don't need to apologize…"

"I don't?" she asked, sitting back on the lobby couch.

"Look, I don't know what this means for us. I know that I have my issues, you have yours… but I also know I couldn't sleep tonight because I couldn't get you off my mind." She looked back up at him.

"Oh?"

"I may not know what will come from this; I don't know if anything will… But I want to find out because… I've missed you."

"Missed you too," she stood back up, blushing and smiling.

"Come on," he offered his hand. "If you want, you could stay the night to sleep…"

"Sleep," she nodded and took his hand, "I like that. Whatever comes, it can wait for morning."

the end.

up next: a Seth ficlet.


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